Pistachio

Once upon a time, there was a very sad sculptor named Stiletto.

He was sad, first of all, because his father had always wanted him to become a cobbler (hence, his strange name). Second, he was sad because Stiletto had always wished for his own son to raise. But alas, Stiletto never got married and was now far too old to take on the responsibility of children.

When Stiletto was sad, he liked to carve things out of unconventional materials (typical artist). And so, one afternoon, Stiletto decided to glue together a bunch of pistachios and carve a boy out of them.

Stiletto carved the boy to look like he could be his son and named him “Pistachio” (what else?). This only made him sadder because he knew that this boy would never come to life, and also because the boy looked sick because he was completely green. Stiletto wished he had carved the boy out of something more traditional like clay or dried moose feces.

What made the whole situation even sadder was that it was also Stiletto’s birthday and, because he had no family to celebrate with, he baked for himself a birthday cake and made a wish on his candles,

“I wish,” he said, “I wish that Pistachio were a real boy.”

Then, Stiletto went to bed.

Now, I’m sure you understand the inherent power of birthday wishes. I mean, none of MINE have ever come true, but I’ve also never really believed in them enough to think that a birthday wish would turn a pile of congealed pistachios into a real boy. Although, maybe if I had, I would’ve made my own boyfriend by now.

In any case, the power of Stiletto’s birthday wish was so strong that IT WORKED!

Pistachio turned into a real boy and opened his eyes to see the world around him! He ran to Stiletto and yelled,

“Papa! Papa! I’m a real boy!”

Observant.

Stiletto awoke with a start. He couldn’t believe his eyes! He decided to carve a friend for Pistachio to keep him out of trouble. Stiletto carved the little friend out of an old cricket bat (like, from the British version of baseball or whatever) and named him Critically Cricket. And, just as his name implied, Critically criticized Pistachio for everything he did.

Stiletto taught his son how to make sculptures, took Pistachio to the market with him, and they even ate family meals together (although, they did find out that Pistachio had a strange tree nut allergy– too much of a good thing I guess).

But Stiletto soon realized that Pistachio needed to begin attending school like other boys his age.

Pistachio started off on his first day of school and, although he promised his Papa that he wouldn’t talk to strangers, he couldn’t help but respond when a fox came up and started eating his ankles.

“Hey!” Pistachio yelled, “Stop that! I’m going to school!”

The fox responded, “You, my boy, are not a boy at all. You don’t need to go to school. Besides, you look sick and should probably take the day off.”

These were good points.

But Critically spoke up from inside of Pistachio’s backpack, “Hey dummy! You need to go to school. Don’t make such a stupid decision.”

This only made Pistachio want to skip school even more.

The fox explained that he was taking a large group of children he found to Las Vegas. Pistachio thought this place sounded educational enough– it did mean “The Meadows” in Spanish, so it was probably the name of a national park!

Wrong.

When Pistachio and the other children arrived at Las Vegas, they were very disappointed. It was stinky, hot, and they weren’t even legal drinking age yet. There was no point to being there.

Critically yelled, “Hey dimwit! I told you this was a bad idea!”

The sly fox explained that all of the children were going to dress up as old people and play the slot machines for him all day long, then give him the proceeds.

All of the children were on board with this because they really liked putting quarters places like in those weird circular funnels in the middle of malls, in underwhelming rides at the end of grocery store checkout lines, and even in noses if they were really bored.

The only problem was that Pistachio was different. Because he looked so strange, people in Las Vegas thought he was some kind of weird sideshow. One weirdo guy dressed as Elvis even took a bite out of Pistachio’s arm. Rude.

When word spread that there was a boy in Las Vegas made entirely of pistachios, people began bombarding Pistachio with pictures and asking him ridiculous questions.

Now, before I go on, it is important to note that Pistachio did have a very strange quirk. Because he received his magical abilities from a birthday wish, every time he told a lie, he’d have to say “Happy Birthday” afterwards. It was like the universe’s way of making sure Stiletto’s birthday wish remembered to be pure of heart or something.

People yelled questions to Pistachio like–

“Have you ever been in a cookie?”

(Pistachio’s answer: “Of course not. Happy Birthday.”)

“Have you ever just tried to eat yourself?”

(Pistachio’s answer: “That’s disgusting. Happy Birthday.”)

“Is it really not easy being green?”

(Pistachio’s answer: “It’s easy. Happy birthday.”)

and even,

“What’s your middle name?”

(Pistachio’s answer: “Macaroon.” He unfortunately was not lying this time. Stiletto thought “Macaroon” sounded sophisticated and didn’t know it was a type of cookie.)

Pistachio wanted to go home. He miss his papa and his warm bed made of pistachio shells. He also hated telling people his middle name, so that was the last straw.

So, he went to the Ripley’s Believe It Or Not museum to see if he could make enough money as an exhibit to pay his way back home.

Pistachio was too young to understand sarcasm, so that’s what he decided to do– hitchhike all the way back home.

He traveled in cars, on trains, and even on a hang glider once!

When he was only 50 miles from home, Pistachio climbed aboard a large Greyhound bus and, just as he thought he was about to get home, the bus broke down! He and Critically were stuck indefinitely in the belly of this beast!

At that exact moment, Pistachio heard a voice say, “Son. I don’t think you’re an idiot at all. You just don’t know what life is yet.”

Pistachio looked up and saw–

Papa!

Indeed, it was Stiletto! He had stopped on the side of the road to see if maybe, just maybe, Pistachio had been trying to get home by bus. Only a father knows where his son can be found in times of trouble.

Pistachio, Stiletto, and Critically went home. All three exhausted. All three very confused about how in the heck a fox knew the English language and how to drive a car to Las Vegas.

That night, it was Stiletto’s birthday once again– indeed, a whole year had passed. I suppose this meant that it was Pistachio’s birthday too!

This time, Stiletto wished that Pistachio would be a human boy and Pistachio wished that Critically would have a British accent so to at least sound sophisticated when giving insults.

Both of these wishes came true! And, while Pistachio still maintained a terrible nut allergy, he didn’t look ill all of the time and was never tempted to eat his own fingers again.

As for Critically, he did get his British accent and, don’t quote me on this, but I heard that he changed his name to Simon and currently makes a living criticizing singers professionally.